


The Criminal's Guide To Los Santos

by Banach_Tarski



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, Heist, Humor, idiocy, they're idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banach_Tarski/pseuds/Banach_Tarski
Summary: Geoff becomes the laughing stock of the Los Santos Police Department after a heist goes wrong. Now homeless, unemployed, and with no other options, Gavin gives him an offer that he really should probably refuse.Geoff accepts anyway. The idiot.





	The Criminal's Guide To Los Santos

It was a brisk afternoon in July, which was unusual for July and also unusual for a reasonably sized, subtropical island off the coast of America, usually known for its pleasant weather. But this was not a usual afternoon. It was brisk, and it wasted no time telling midday to hurry up and get on with it, because there were people out there who, the afternoon had decided, were better off miserable.

The reasonably sized, subtropical island was Los Santos and one of the people wallowing in misery was Geoff Ramsey. Neither of these were unusual occurrences.

Geoff was miserable in the way most people in Los Santos found themselves to be at some point in their lives- behind bars. The cell was draughty and damp, and Geoff’s nose was sore. He slouched where he sat on the edge of the cot and the position made his back hurt. He considered lying down, but if he did he was just going to be miserable on the horizontal instead of vertical, and staying still required less effort.

Geoff Ramsey was not a happy man. He had a dead end job in an IT company that was going nowhere, his apartment was falling apart and bare, and he was the laughing stock of the Downtown Los Santos Police Department. Geoff knew this because he could hear the officers talking down the hallway. The officers also made it a point to tell him whenever they walked past.

The cell door rumbled open.

“Well well, Mr Criminal Mastermind,” Officer Heyman droned, “looks like one of your lackeys managed to pay bail. You’re free to go.”

Geoff squinted up at him and shuffled to his feet.

“I am?”

“Until the court date. Come on, come on, move move.”

“Lackeys?”

“Minions, henchmen, the Pinky to your Brain. One of your damn flying monkeys, except you’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”

“What?”

“Come on, keep up. I haven’t got all day.”

Officer Heyman led him to the front desk where Jack Pattillo was waiting for him. Geoff avoided looking at what he knew to be Jack’s worried gaze and instead focused on filling in the small mountain of paperwork on the desk.

Officer Burns stepped out from an office and dropped a staggering mound of paper onto the desk, rendering Geoff’s mountain nothing more than a slight incline. Officer Burns placed Geoff under his sharp gaze for about three seconds before a smile worked its way out of a crack in his mouth.

Officer Burns was the sort of guy who would laugh at your joke and then throw you out a fucking window. That is, no-one entirely knew and it’d hurt when you tried to figure it out. Geoff had never actually seen him defenestrate someone but really, it was only a matter of time. The man had twitchy fingers.

Although that might be the enormous quantities of coffee his partner in crime, or lack thereof, Officer Heyman, fed him.

“We get a lot of people through here, Ramsey,” Burnie said, stifling a laugh. Geoff tried not to flinch and failed. “But you have to be one of the _dumbest_.”

“I’ll have to try harder next time.” Geoff said before he could stop himself.

Officer Burns glared at him again.

“Oh please do, Ramsey. Please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top. Now get the fuck out of here. Go!”

He pushed Geoff’s slight incline of papers onto an even greater incline, this one a vertical drop to the mushy carpet. Geoff and Jack hurriedly picked the papers up while Burns worked himself up into a proper shout.

They left the police station while they still could.

“Christ, Geoff,” Jack said. “When you said you’d found a way to pay the rent…” he trailed off, waiting for Geoff to say something.

Geoff shrugged and tripped over a bit of pavement.

“So now to get your stupid ass out of jail,” Jack continued once the silence had dragged on too long, “I had to use every cent in our emergency fund. Now we have zip. Nada. Naught. Nothi”-

-“I get it, it get it.” Geoff said. “I’m sorry, alright? I thought I could fix everything.”

“Well, you didn’t.” Jack replied testily.

They walked in silence for a while. The wind eagerly pushed them this way and that, like a child with a parent at an amusement park, except with the exact opposite amount of joy. With every cent spent on Geoff’s bail, there was no money left for a bus fare and they had to walk the dozen blocks from the station back to their shitty apartment.

It was well into the evening by the time they shut the door to their crappy apartment, the ensuing bang loud enough to rattle the window panes.

“I don’t know what we’re gonna do, Geoff,” Jack complained. “The landlord gave us three days to make rent and we’ve got about twelve hours left. And now neither of us can go back to work either.”

“You got fired?”

“Yep, they let me go too when I left to pay your bail. We’re up shit creek.”

Geoff nodded sagely. “We’re fucked.”

“We’re fucked.”

 

*******

 

“To homelessness.”

“To homelessness.”

They clinked their glasses together and drank. A couple of days ago a neighbour had left a bottle of homemade honeyed wine unattended for a few moments, and Geoff had swiped it. Now was as good occasion as any to bust it open and drown their sorrows.

Geoff took another long gulp and cleared his throat at the burn. It was wine, but fuck it was strong. Geoff only had a glass or two but already he could feel the bees buzzing around and fuzzing up his head. Judging by the odd lumps in the drink, that may not be entirely metaphorical.

“But what the hell was going through your head?” Jack said. “Breaking into our own damn office building?”

Geoff squirmed on his fold-out chair.

“So the police told you the whole story?”

“In great detail. Officer Heyman even showed me some pictures.”

“I thought”-

-“You were wearing a Master Chief helmet, Geoff! Why on earth were you wearing a Master Chief helmet? You used your keycard to get in! With your name on it! You thought nothing!”

There was a knock on the apartment door.

Geoff and Jack looked at each other.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Geoff whispered.

“Who would I be expecting? Why would I invite guests at a time like this?” Jack whispered back.

Considering the landlord wasn’t going to pay them a visit until tomorrow morning, and thieves weren’t polite enough to knock before entering, they may as well see what this new asshole wanted. Geoff shouted for the knocker to let themselves in.

Nothing in their apartment was worth keeping locked away, even if they did have a lock. Their preferred method of thief deterrent was sitting with their backs against the front door with a large stick in hand. Now that they were getting kicked out of the apartment, and had opened the bottle of wine, the number of fucks they had left to give was zero. Sure, random stranger, come the fuck in. The most valuable thing in the apartment that could be taken was the door, and even that wasn’t going to be theirs for much longer.

The aforementioned door swung open and a rather beak-ish nose peeked into the room.

“Hello?” A British accent asked. “Geoff?”

“Gavin?” Geoff said. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Looking for you!” Gavin shut the door behind him and excitedly bounced in front of Geoff.

Gavin was Geoff’s… well, ‘friend’ was a strong word. More like his annoying British acquaintance who’d stumbled into his life a year ago and hasn’t managed to stumble his way out again. Gavin lived in an almost as shitty apartment in the building across from his and Jack’s and sometimes they would head to the bar on the corner and drink.

Usually Gavin was energetic and boisterous, but every once in a while he would get this far-off look in his eyes that made him seem a thousand miles away. Jack told him Gavin was probably thinking of home, but Geoff had always suspected it was something more.

Probably magic mushrooms.

Gavin did some freelance tech stuff that Geoff didn’t really understand, no matter how many times Gavin tried to explain at the bar. The more alcohol he’d drunk the more pronounced his accent became and the more slang words he used, until Geoff could only understand about half of what was coming out of his mouth.

“Why the hell would you want to see me?” Geoff said.

Jack waved Gavin over, “sit down, sit down,” and handed him the bottle. Gavin gave it a cursory sniff, wrinkled his nose, then took a swig.

“I heard about what happened yesterday,” Gavin said.

“How?” Geoff asked, incredulous.

“I have my methods.” Gavin took another swig. “Okay, there were pictures on the DLSP’s Facebook page. Seriously? A Master Chief helmet?”

“Please, I’ve already been through this,” Geoff said. “and it would have worked if I hadn’t- look, why are you here again?”

“I’m here to offer you a business proposition.” Gavin said.

Geoff took a moment to hold Gavin’s gaze and then downed the rest of his drink. Really? Gavin had seen the photos of his absolutely botched heist and decided that Geoff was the guy he wanted working with him?

“You must be more of an idiot than you look.” Geoff said, flicking his eyes over to Jack. He was trying to hide a grin behind the lip of his glass, which worked about as well as you would expect.

If you expected it would work well, you should also expect to be wrong.

“I might be an idiot,” Gavin said, “But I don’t look like one.” He paused. “Well, you know what I mean. Look, just, come over to my apartment. It’s not safe to discuss things here.”

“I don’t think I like the sound of this business proposition…” Geoff said.

“Why isn’t it safe to talk here?” Jack asked.

“I don’t like the look of that mould growing in your kitchen.” Gavin explained. “Also, there’s some stuff on my laptop I need to show you and I left it over there. Jack, you can come too.”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Jack replied sarcastically. “Happy to be included.”

“You’re welcome. So come on, we’ve a bunch of stuff to go over tonight.”

Geoff and Jack shared another look. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything else going for them, or even anything else to do that night. This might be the shiny, golden opportunity they need to keep their shitty apartment.

“Fine.” Geoff said. He took the bottle from Gavin and finished it off. “Let me just return this bottle and we can go.”

Geoff opened a window and threw the empty bottle out. It smashed onto the landlord’s front porch into a million pieces, like Jack’s hopes and dreams of getting his deposit back from their awful apartment. Fuck their landlord.

“Yep, returned right back to mother nature. Let’s go.”

 

*******

 

Gavin’s apartment was… nicer, but not any cleaner. Empty mugs littered the floor, along with loose papers and stacks of books. There was a TV and a newer model Xbox against one wall, against another was a table with three dead plants on top. A laptop sat on a coffee table between a couch and the TV. Gavin picked a path through the mess to his laptop and motioned for them to sit on his couch.

The windows had newspapers taped over them and the air stank of B.O and off food. It was like a drug den, except the toxic fumes weren’t going to get you high before you keeled over. The only time the police would investigate this place would be if the neighbours called to check you hadn’t died abruptly.

Geoff suddenly felt very uncomfortable on Gavin’s suspiciously mostly-clean couch.

“I feel like I’m about to be interviewed.” Geoff said.

Gavin sat on a chair opposite and pressed some buttons on his laptop. Geoff carried on. He also continued speaking.

“And not the ‘where do you see yourself in five years?’ sort of interview. More like ‘do you take it up the butt?’ and I’ll have to say yes because there’s nowhere else I can take it up.”

Gavin shook his head. “Not that sort of business proposition. I need your help with something big.”

“Well, I’ve got something big for you right here, if you know what I mean. It’s okay, I like to give _and_ take.”

Gavin rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking about something that can take us from shithole apartments like this, to the top. Right to the very top. I’m talking about… a heist.”

If Geoff had been drinking, which he dearly wished he still was, he would have done a spit take.

“Are you sure you’re not insane?”

Even Jack’s shoulders were shaking with laughter. “Why on _earth_ would you want _Geoff_ to help you with a heist?”

“Not just any heist.” Gavin pressed on, clarifying nothing. “The heist of a lifetime. A one-of-a-kind, out of this world, heist extravaganza.

“I want Geoff, and you too Jack, to help me pull it off because no-one else I know would be desperate enough to try. I need people with nothing else to lose. I need… well, I’d like to do better than the bottom of the barrel in all honesty, but you’re all I’ve got. Even if it isn’t much.”

“Right,” Geoff said, standing, “You’re bonkers. Completely off your rocker. Thanks but”-

-“Your heist would have _worked_ , Geoff.” Gavin cut him off. “Really worked. You just needed some help and some more tech-y know-how. I figured out what you were trying to do and, quite frankly, it was brilliant.”

Geoff paused halfway out of his seat.

“Really? You think so?”

“I know so.”

“You probably should have led with that instead of insulting me and my friend, but I’ll give you a pass because you’re out of your damn mind.”

“Geoff,” Jack said, “Can we go? I’d really like to go.”

“No, wait!” Gavin pleaded. He showed them what was on his laptop screen. It was a few seconds of security camera footage, showing a group of shady individuals moving some sort of package. “Just look at this first! Please!”

One of the package holders adjusted their grip on the item. A glowing light was visible for a moment, red and cyan at the same time but not mixing to make purple. The result was an entirely new colour that Geoff had never seen before in his entire life, which was especially strange as the rest of the footage was black and white.

“What is that?” Geoff asked.

“I’m not sure.” Gavin replied. “I’ve never seen anything that glows that colour before. I didn’t even think my screen was capable of displaying it. I don’t think it’s even...” Gavin lowered his voice, “from this planet.”

“How did you get this footage?” Geoff asked.

Gavin smiled and wiggled his fingers. Geoff pointed a non-wiggling finger at him.

“You _stole_ it? How?”

“I’m the guy with the tech know-how that would have stopped you making a complete fool of yourself yesterday.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Geoff, there’s no way you’re _actually_ listening to this guy. Where’d this footage come from anyway?”

“Humane Labs.”

“ _Humane Labs?!_ ” Geoff said. “How in the _fuck_ did you manage to do that?”

“Gavin’s my name, hacking’s my game.”

“And what, you want to steal this mysterious glowing whatever-it-is from them, even though you have no idea what it does? Then what, sell it to the highest bidder?”

“Uh, yeah, in essence.” Gavin said sheepishly. “I was hoping you could come up with most of the details.”

“And you want _me_ to come up with a plan?”

Gavin nodded.

Geoff shook his head.

Jack also shook his head, but no one was really paying any attention to him.

“Thanks for the offer,” Geoff said, “But no thanks”-

-“I’ll let you both stay at my apartment until the heist is finished.”

“Oh.” Jack said.

“Ah.” Geoff said.

Jack smiled sweetly at Gavin. “In that case…”

“…We’d love to help you with your heist.”

Gavin stuck his hand out. “Shake on it.”

Obediently, they shook his hand. One at a time though, there wasn’t a _ménage à trois_ of hands on top of the coffee table. Gavin’s hand was slightly sweaty and Geoff fought back a grimace, but the deal was made.

 

*******

 

They didn’t have much to move into Gavin’s apartment- three fold-out chairs, some kitchenware, two mattresses, a bedside table, and enough clothes and odds and ends to fill a duffel bag. Gavin had a room which he called a ‘study’ but consisted of only storage boxes and, for some unknown reason, a contraption that could gently be called a flamethrower. Geoff decided that corner of the room could be avoided at all cost.

“First thing we need to do,” Gavin said after they’d set up camp in the study, “is hire a bit more help.”

“Are you sure?” Geoff said. “I kinda feel like gathering intel is the first thing you’re meant to do. Expanding this… operation feels like a very big step.”

“It’s okay, just trust me on this. I know what I’m doing.”

Geoff was suddenly, absolutely, and completely sure that not only did Gavin had no idea what he was doing, but he was also a terrible liar.

Jack leaned against a stack of storage boxes. They leaned back. “Can you _afford_ to hire help? I mean, you’re not even paying us.”

“I’m paying you with free rent.”

“Somehow I don’t think a room in your apartment, of which you don’t have any more free, is going to entice a thug-for-hire.”

“Well, the heist is gonna have a big payoff. They’ll get their fair share of that.”

Geoff shook his head. “There’s gonna be quite a bit to do between now and the heist.”

Hopefully enough to do to give Geoff and Jack time to get back on their feet, and then they can kiss this crazy bastard goodbye.

“Look,” Gavin said, “Don’t worry about it. Just get a guy to come here and tell us… you know.”

Geoff frowned. “We know what?”

“You know. How this whole ‘criminal underground’ of Los Santos works. Make sure the guy knows where to get a gun.”

“You don’t know how to get a gun?”

Gavin grimaced. “It’ll look pretty sus if we all bought guns from the Ammunation. We need… secrecy. Connections. And I don’t actually have any.”

“Have you ever been part of a heist before?”

Gavin shook his head.

“Do you know anyone who’s done one?”

Gavin repeated the action.

“Have you ever broken a law before that didn’t involve that laptop in some way?”

Gavin paused and, completely failing to surprise anyone, shook his head once more.

“Gavin,” Jack said, “are you… sure you want to do a heist?”

“As sure as I am that you’ll only live here if we do.”

“Fine.” Geoff said. “What do you want me to do then? Put an ad on Craigslist?”

Gavin brightened. “Do you think that’ll work?”

Geoff did not.

“It’s worth a shot.” Geoff said.

 

 *******

 

The very next morning there was a knock on Gavin’s apartment door. Unfortunately for Geoff he was the closest to it and, in a move he would later call one of his greatest mistakes, answered it.

“Whadyawant,” Geoff said, swinging the door open.

The Vagabond stared back at him.

Geoff shut the door.

“Shit on my _dick_!” Geoff screamed, and made an attempt to flee that would have made an Olympic sprinter proud, except he tripped on one of Gavin’s numerous piles of books and hit the floor instead.

“Who was it?” Jack asked. He walked in from the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand.

“It’s the fucking _Vagabond_!”

As everyone in Los Santos was well aware of, the Vagabond was one of, if not the most, dangerous and deadly men in the city. This guy would murder you and then stomp on your flowers in your front yard if he thought it would piss your ghost off. He would burn your house down if you accidentally bumped into him on the street. He’d drop-kick a child if there was an off-chance you would trip over the punted body.

He always wore a black skull mask and a big leather jacket, even in the middle of summer. The guy was a walking power move.

“What do we do?!” Jack said. “What’s he even doing here?!”

“Um,” a quiet voice called out from the direction of the front door, “I’m here about the Craigslist ad?”

Two pairs of eyes swivelled to the front door. The Vagabond’s black mask peeked around the now slightly ajar door.

“This is apartment sixty-nine, right?” The Vagabond asked. “You were looking for someone with access to”- he dropped his voice to a whisper- “ _illegal firearms_?”

Gavin, finally, made an appearance from the study.

“Oh, hello,” he said politely, “yep, that was us. Please come in!” The Vagabond shut the front door behind him, careful not to slam it shut. “Geoff, I didn’t think you’d get a response so quickly.”

Geoff got up from the floor, rubbing his sore knee. “Me either. Especially considering I didn’t put an address on the damn thing.”

“Sorry about that,” the Vagabond said. He rubbed a hand sheepishly on the back of his neck. “I tracked your IP address. I really, really need this job.”

Jack put his tea down on the coffee table. “You… are the Vagabond, aren’t you? I thought every gang in Los Santos would want you on their payroll. But you answered our Craigslist ad instead?”

The Vagabond nodded. “I am the Vagabond. It’s just that I used to do all my work through my PR guy, you know, for branding, but he sort of died two months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, brain aneurysm. I sent his family flowers. But yeah, no-one’s been able to contact me and I don’t know how to contact them back, so here I am.”

Geoff, discreetly, stuck his fingertips in Jack’s freshly made tea, just to make sure this was real and he wasn’t having some sort of fever dream, possibly from the storage box full of cut open spray paint cans right next to his head when he slept.

The tea was hot and burnt his fingers. He decided this was, in fact, real life he was experiencing and also he was an idiot.

“Right.” Geoff said, and stuck out his non-burnt hand for the Vagabond to shake. “Geoff Ramsey. Pleasure to meet you. Please don’t set me on fire.”

“Ryan Haywood.” The Vagabond replied, shaking his hand, “Glad to hear the rumours are still going around. Ah, shit.”

“What?”

“I just told you my name. Fuck. This is why my PR guy usually handled this sort of stuff, rest his soul.” The Vagabond pulled a pistol out from his jacket. The other three men in the room suddenly paled, like every other entrée option in comparison to garlic bread at a restaurant. Except the only thing served up right now was the threat of homicide. “None of you tell anyone the name you just heard. I’ll cut ya.”

“With the gun?” Geoff’s big stupid mouth said, before his bigger and much more intelligent but still not all that bright brain could stop it.

“Why would… no, not with the gun. I have a big knife and it’ll do the job just fine. I thought you’d want to see what kind of weapons I can get for you, so…”

The Vagabond, or Ryan, put the pistol on the coffee table next to Jack’s tea. He also laid out an SMG, shotgun, sniper rifle, and a couple of other guns that Geoff didn’t know the names of.

They’d also just… appeared from inside his jacket. There was no possible way he’d been able to fit all of those on his person.

“What’s that?” Geoff asked, pointing.

“That’s a Special Carbine Assault Rifle. One of the best in its class, if I do say so myself.”

“And that?”

“That’s an Assault Shotgun. Have you not seen these guns before?”

Geoff, Jack, and Gavin shook their heads.

“Do you know how to _fire_ these guns?”

More headshakes.

“And just how were you expecting to pull off a heist if you can’t even use a gun?”

“Well,” Gavin said, “It can’t be rocket science.”

“Rockets literally use the same science. Controlled explosions become propulsion. Look, can we just talk about what guns you want and what you’ll give me for them?”

Gavin hummed an affirmative, and the pair of them went to the study to talk.

Geoff and Jack shared a worried look.

“Shit,” Jack said, “this is turning out to be a lot more serious than I thought it would.”

“You think?!” Geoff spluttered. “The goddamn _Vagabond_ is here, and he hasn’t even been here five minutes and already threatened to kill us. I say we get the fuck out of here before we get gutted like fish.”

“And where are we gonna go then?” Jack argued, gesturing at the mess around them. “Our lease is up, we’ve got no money, and we’re out of friends with dubious sounding criminal offerings in exchange for housing. We don’t have any other options, Geoff.”

The mess, if it could have gestured back, would have done so just as dismissively.

“Okay, okay.” Geoff said. “We don’t have any options right now, but we will once the Vagabond sells Gavin his weapons. We can grab ‘em, leave under the cover of night, and sell ‘em for a few grand. That’ll be enough to put down a deposit for somewhere while we look for jobs. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Gavin and the Vagabond came out of the back room a few minutes later, shook hands, and the Vagabond left the apartment.

“So?” Jack asked. “What’d you get?”

“Oh, I didn’t end up getting any weapons.” Gavin said brightly. “I got something even better. Ryan’s going to help us with the heist instead!”

Dread settled deep into Geoff’s stomach at the news. _Fuck_ didn’t even begin to cover it, much like his old health insurance company. Which, the last time Geoff had heard about it, was doing exceptionally well, probably because they could worm their way out of any plan in the same way Geoff couldn’t.

“Oh yeah? Why’d he offer to help?” Jack said.

“I said he could stay here and sleep on the couch.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yeah, he’s between apartments right now. Something about people always hunting him down, apartments mysteriously burning down in the middle of the night. But I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna be an issue.”

“And why’s that?”

“He was almost certain no-one followed him here.” Gavin said with a confident grin. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the same thing happening again.”

The Vagabond returned, a duffel bag in each hand, and he dropped them off just inside the front door. One hit the ground with the sound of clanking metal, the other, a soft squelch.

“Do you mind if I take the newspaper off one of the windows?” The Vagabond asked. “I’ve got some succulents sitting in the car and they need light.”

“Sure,” Gavin replied, “you can put your bags in the study.”

The Vagabond left the apartment again.

Geoff and Jack exchanged another look. This was not a worried look, or a panicked one; no, this was a look of resignation and desire to flee the situation, one that could go toe-to-toe with the one President Richard Nixon gave to his advisors when the Watergate investigators knocked on his door, except the associated smoking gun in this case would be a literal one.

“Why do you two keep sharing looks like that?” Gavin said. “Don’t worry, there should be plenty of room in the study. It’s not like he’s gonna murder you if you roll over and… you know what, you should probably ask him before you go to sleep tonight.”

 

 *******

 

It was 3:30pm and the four of them were standing around the kitchen table. Geoff nursed a cup of coffee and stared at the blueprints laid out in front of him. How “call me Ryan when we’re in the apartment” had gotten actual floorplans of Humane Labs, printed on that classic blue paper as well for God’s sake, was well beyond him but so far everything about the man was a goddamn surprise.

Once everyone had properly introduced themselves Ryan had taken his mask and jacket off and it was like he transformed into a suburban dad. Graphic tee, dad jeans, and a five o’clock shadow that was rapidly approaching 9 or 10pm, he looked the full package. The only thing he was missing was the dad bod- Ryan had muscles Geoff could only dream about, and he was admittedly envious. But only to Jack, and when he was sure the other two were out of earshot. That way he only had to endure the teasing from one person about dreaming of hot, well-muscled dudes.

Then there was the way Ryan talked. No wonder he had a PR guy do all the talking for him, because once he was comfortable he could barely string two words together without tripping over his own tongue, much to Gavin’s amusement. And if Gavin said anything about it, which he seemed completely incapable of not doing, Ryan would spew curses and death threats in a menacing yet casual tone which would have absolutely no effect on Gavin. Geoff wasn’t sure which was more surreal- the fact that the Vagabond was swanning around the place like he lived here, which he actually did now, or that he didn’t scare Gavin in the slightest.

In fact, the only person who was still ever so slightly uncomfortable rooming with the _literal most dangerous man in Los Santos_ was Geoff. Jack had warmed up to him with considerable speed once Ryan mentioned he’d had an Xbox at his old apartment- the two were quick to fire up Gavin’s and made scathing critiques of his game library. Geoff wasn’t sure what game they ended up picking because he was fretting about how exactly he and Jack were going to earn their keep.

Hence, after spending far too long trying to figure out what he could google search that’d help him, he asked everyone into the kitchen to talk it over. Ryan had fucked off for a good hour and a half at that and returned with the aforementioned blueprints. Now he sipped on a Diet Coke and argued with Gavin about knife throwing.

Geoff stared at the blueprints for a little while longer. Yep, they were certainly blueprints. No doubt about that.

“Hey,” Jack whispered, “Geoff. What do you think?”

“I think we’re fucked.” Geoff whispered back. “I wouldn’t know how to begin to prepare for something like this.”

“Then tell Gavin that.”

“Alright,” Geoff said, and turned to Gavin. “Gavin. Hey, Gavin.”

“Yo?”

“So I uh, I’ve been reviewing the plans and uh…”

“Yeah?”

“Look man I’m trying, but I don’t really know what we need to do here.”

“Okay. So we need to know what we need.”

Geoff, hesitatingly, nodded. “Well, yeah, yes. We need to figure out what we need, and what to get to get what we need, and what we need to get to get what we need for what we need.”

Gavin nodded eagerly. Jack didn’t even pretend to try and follow the conversation. He instead tried to draw Ryan’s attention to the kitchen table and away from (Geoff could only make the wildest guess as to what he was actually doing) dropping all of Gavin’s knives on the kitchen floor.

“Ryan,” Jack said, “What do you think we’re gonna need for this?”

Ryan shrugged and let another knife fall out of his hand. It clattered on the tile.

“First of all: Money. Then we need connections to people in high places, an enormous amount of firepower, and a shit-tonne of luck.”

“Well, Ryan,” Gavin said, “You should be able to handle getting the firepower.”

“Yeah, I’ve got that covered pretty nicely.”

“I’ll see if I can dig up some dirt on some local politicians. If anyone knows anything about breaking the law and getting away with it, it’s them, right?”

“Right.”

“Once you do,” Jack said, “let me be the middle man with them. I can do all the organisational stuff.”

“Please do,” Gavin replied, pulling a face, “as you can see, I’m not the… tidiest. So that leaves you with the money, Geoff.”

“Great.” Geoff said. “So I’m stuck on the same problem I was before I agreed to do this heist with you, Gavin.”

It was at that moment that someone decided to kick the front door in.

Ryan sprang into action and drew a knife and a pistol before the door even hit the wall. Geoff sprang to action as well, except his action was to hide under the table.

“Game night!” A voice that was definitely too young to be the police called out. Not too young to rule out the chance they were an assassin though, and Ryan took cover behind the kitchen counter.

“Game niiiiight!” Another voice sang out. “Get ready to game fiiiight!”

“Michael?” Gavin called out. “Jeremy? I thought you guys weren’t going to be here until five?”

“Gavin?” Ryan said. “Do you know these guys? Are they not assassins?”

“Assassins?!” The second voice called out, and wandered into view. It was a well-built man, somewhere in his mid-twenties, and he had a shock of orange and purple hair. Another man appeared behind him and he looked a little older, although still young, and he had a mop of reddish-brown curls. “Gavin, who is this man and why does he think we’re assassins?”

The man with the curls bent over and inspected Geoff under the table. “Gavin, did you know there’s a bum hiding under your kitchen table?”

Gavin put himself between Ryan and the two new men. “That’s Ryan, he’s the Vagabond, and yes I know Geoff’s under the table. Don’t worry about him.”

“Holy shit, you’re the Vagabond?” Curls asked Ryan, who sighed and nodded.

“Yes, I’m the Vagabond, and if you tell anyone I will murder you very slowly, and very painfully. And Gavin, you’re lucky we’re working together or I would be forced to slit your goddamn throat for spreading that around.”

“You’re working together?” Orange-and-Purple Hair asked at the same time Ryan sighed in defeat. “Gavin, what are you doing with the Vagabond of all people?”

“It’s top secret”- Gavin said at the same time as Jack walked out of the bathroom and said “It’s a heist!” much to everyone’s surprise, and Ryan instinctively went for his gun again.

Geoff decided now was a good time to get out from under the table and join the discussion like a civilised human being.

“Are these your friends, Gavin?” Geoff asked.

“Yeah, these are Jeremy and Michael.” he pointed to Curls and Orange-and-Purple respectively. “No, wait, the other way around. _That’s_ Jeremy, and _that’s_ Michael.” He pointed to the correct people this time. “And they were just going to come back at the agreed time”-

-“What’s the heist, Gavvy?” Michael asked.

“Can we help?” Jeremy said. “I’ve always wanted to do a heist. I want a secret identity like the Vagabond. Well, maybe a bit more secret than his.”

“Hang on,” Jack said, “You can’t just invite yourself into a heist.”

“Gavin,” Michael said. “You said the heist was a secret?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Well, Jeremy and I want in. We won’t tell anyone if you let us help out!”

Gavin flicked his eyes to Ryan, who shrugged. “I could kill ‘em both before they made it out of the room, but I don’t think you’d like that too much. Sure, why not let them help? We were going to need some hired guns anyway, and if they volunteer, we don’t have to pay them.”

“What?” Jeremy said. “Why can’t we get a cut of the heist?”

“Have you ever been on a heist?”

“Uhhh…”

“You ever broken a law before?”

“Oh yeah I have!” Michael said. “I punched the shit out of a mugger once when he was trying to mug Gavin.”

“That’s… the opposite of committing a crime. That’s something a Good Samaritan would do.”

“What can I say? Heart of gold.” Michael winked at the Vagabond. “Just the kind of guy a heist like this needs.”

“Oh! Oh! No heart of gold here!” Jeremy said. “I’m a real psychopath! I’d sell your soul to Satan for one corn chip, and I don’t even like corn chips. Or believe in Satan!”

Ryan narrowed his eyes when Jeremy said “real psychopath”. “Regardless, if you haven’t done those things, you’re volunteers.”

Michael huffed out a sigh, and Jeremy folded his arms.

“Fine.” Michael said. “But Jeremy gets a secret identity.”

“Fine.” Gavin said. “You can help. But remember, it’s Geoff calling the shots and you have to listen to what he says.”

“Sure.” Jeremy said. “We’ll follow the orders of the deranged homeless man.”

“I’m not homeless!” Geoff argued. “But I am a man, I won’t argue with you on that.”

“But deranged?”

“You’ll have to find out.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Geoff rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. He did have an idea now, actually.

“Well, I can’t help but think about what I did the last time I was in this situation. I think we should do a heist.”

“We knew that, dumbass.” Michael said. “What’s the plan?”

“No, like, a heist before the heist. A practice heist.”

“A warmup?” Gavin suggested.

“Yeah, a warmup. So we can warm up to each other or something.” Geoff said. “Work out the kinks.”

“But I like it kinky.” Jeremy added, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah I bet you do, with that mop on top of your head.” Geoff muttered under his breath.

 

 *******

 

Ryan’s car was a fancy-ass Pegassi Osiris with a sleek black finish and blood red highlights. It’s one of the newer model supercars, fresh from Italy and with body armour, bullet proof windows and tires, and a 230 mile per hour top speed. Ryan said he stole it from a multimillionaire a few weeks ago and he’d spent a fortune on the paint job and various other cosmetics. It was by far the nicest car Geoff had seen in his entire life.

It also only sat two people, so they had to take Jeremy’s minivan, which he dubbed the Mini Tim, to the location Ryan claimed he could get some guns for them to use in the practice heist. Ryan was going to go alone, but Gavin had insisted on going along and it was important Jack went to learn how it all worked, and of course then Geoff had to go too to look after him and by the end of it all six of them were coming along. Jeremy unfolded two seats in the back so it sat six, and then they piled in and Jeremy drove off, Ryan in the passenger seat directing him.

It was important to note that the Mini Tim was painted an assaulting mix of purple and orange. Geoff and Gavin, as the two slightest, sat squished in the very back. Understandably, they were not too happy with the development.

“You know,” Michael said, turning around to look back at Geoff, “You look sort of familiar. Have I seen you around?”

“Probably not.”

“I swear I’ve seen your face before. Did Weasel News interview you recently?”

“They didn’t _interview_ me.”

“Huh. I could have sworn…”

Jeremy stopped the Mini Tim under an overpass in the bad part of town. Well, the worse part of town. Gavin’s apartment was definitely not in one of the nicer apartment blocks of Downtown Los Santos. Jack and Ryan got out and Ryan motioned for the rest of them to stay in the minivan.

“It’s safer if you all stay here.” Ryan cautioned. “You can see what happens from the van.”

“Fuck that,” Jeremy said. “I’m gonna help intimidate the arms dealer!”

“I don’t think I’m gonna need any help with that.”

“You might need someone to help carry all the guns back to the car, then.”

“Jack and I can handle it.”

Gavin pushed the seat in front of him down so he could get out of the back. “I’m not staying in the car like a sitting duck when we’re surrounded by drug dealers.” Geoff followed him because there was no way he was letting Jack make deals with criminals without him there to help.

“Arms dealers.” Ryan corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Now that I think about it, it’s probably best not to leave you unsupervised.”

Michael got out of the van next. “Don’t worry Vagabond, I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”

“But I… hrm. Fine. You can all come along. But you have to stay with me, don’t talk to anyone, and don’t touch anything. Understand?”

He received a chorus of yeses in reply.

“Alright. Follow me.”

Ryan led them over a concrete barrier and ducked through a torn section of chain-link fence. The rushing noise of cars above grew louder and louder as they went deeper under the overpass. The air grew colder too, and dustier, and the combination made Geoff’s nose run. It was altogether a very unpleasant place to do anything in except leave. A couple of guys wandered around, talking to each other and giving the group of them nasty looks.

There was a man leaning against a pylon towards the very back of the overpass, where the ceiling ended in a wall and the cars above were at their closest. Ryan stopped walking when he was about thirty feet from the mysterious figure, and the rest of them stopped too. The man crossed the remaining distance and addressed them with a sneer.

“Does it take six people to do a fucking trade nowadays, hah?” the man asked.

“Do you have the guns or not?” The Vagabond responded. His voice had dropped at least half an octave and an icy demeanour had overcome him. He wasn’t Ryan anymore- that man had disappeared as soon as he’d put the skull mask back on.

“Yeah, I got ‘em. Are you gonna uphold your end of the bargain?”

“One assassination, free of charge.”

The man nodded, and gestured behind him. Another man came forwards, absolutely massive, with a duffel bag in each hand. Geoff wasn’t sure how he missed him in his initial scan of the area. The Vagabond picked up one duffel bag and Jack grabbed the other. Geoff fought back a smile as Jack struggled to lift the bag over his shoulder while the Vagabond carried his with ease.

“So uh,” The Vagabond said, “are you going to want these duffel bags back, or can I keep them? Because they’re pretty nice.”

The arms dealer blinked.

“No, no, you can keep them.” The man said. He frowned a little. “Wait, are they nice, or are they “nice-nice”?”

“They look hand stitched to me. Don’t get any like these anymore.”

“… Can I actually grab those back from you? It’s hard to find nice duffel bags nowadays. I go through quite a few in a month.”

“What? No, you already said I could have them.”

The massive man folded his arms, and a couple of the others dealers hanging around looked their way. Geoff, Gavin, and his friends shot a worried look towards the Vagabond. The Vagabond passed his duffel to Michael, who grunted under the strain. Free of the weight, he rolled his shoulders and stared menacingly at the arms dealer.

“If you want them back, you’ll have to take them from the cold, dead hands of my associates.” The Vagabond said.

Geoff wished he was back at the van.

“Oh really?” The arms dealer said. “Because your “associates” look ready to piss their pants. My “associate” does not.”

“It’s not my associates you need to be worried about.”

“Fellas, please.” Jack cut in. The Vagabond shot him a look that looked like all his other looks- hidden behind the skull mask. “I have a solution. Why don’t we just take one each?”

“I’d be okay with that.” The arms dealer said. “Do you want to do that?”

Slowly, the Vagabond nodded. Jack pulled all the guns out of his duffel and handed the empty bag over to the massive man. He shook the hand of the arms dealer and the two groups took a few cautious steps away from each other, and then walked their separate ways.

The trip back to the van was silent. It was only once Jeremy pulled onto the main road that Jack spoke.

“God knows why you needed a PR guy, Ryan. It’s perfectly reasonable to get into a _fight to the death_ over a couple of _duffel bags_.”

“My reputation was at stake! And besides, he was right. Good duffels are like unicorns.”

“Hard to find?” Gavin said.

“Fucking magical. But also yes.”

“ _Oooh, I’m Ryan_ ,” Jack continued, in his special mix of mocking and chastising, “I can’t follow my own advice for two damn minutes and keep my stupid mouth shut.”

Ryan took his mask off and glared at Jack, who stared back with a level gaze. Ryan was bright red, and Geoff wasn’t sure if that was embarrassment or unbridled, murderous rage. He’d bet his life it was the second one though.

“The only reason I’m not ending you right now”-

-“Is because you’re total shit and handling the sides of this business that don’t involve murder and arson. You need someone like me.” Jack paused for a moment. “Also you can’t reach me from up the front.”

“Are you finished?”

“I’m just getting started.” Jack said.

Michael and Gavin up until this point had made a herculean effort to avoid bursting out laughing, one that could have been transcribed into a ballad, two plays, and a half dozen sonnets if people still did that sort of thing. But they don’t, and they failed, and tears cascaded down their faces and after the whole affair had gone on slightly too long Gavin started making noises like he was about to throw up.

“I’m about to throw up!” Gavin said.

“Gavvy,” Jeremy said, “If you upchuck in the Mini Tim I’ll murder you and use your dead body to soak up the mess.”

“Jack,” Geoff pleaded under his breath while the rest of the van’s occupants argued amongst themselves, “please stop antagonising him. Ryan knows where you sleep.”

“He won’t kill me.” Jack replied in the same tone. “He can’t.”

“I’m pretty sure he can. Without trying, not even a little.”

“No, because I have something he needs.”

“What?”

“Tact. Ryan’s good with the threats and the murder but outside of that he has no idea how to conduct himself. He’s gonna need someone like me if he wants this heist to work out.”

“Do you honestly think there’s gonna be another heist after the shit-show this one’s gonna be?”

“I like to stay optimistic. Besides, we have the warmup heist to sort everything out.”

Geoff snorted. “If you think the practice is going to be anything other than a fiasco, you’re delusional.”

“I’m not delusional,” Jack said. “I’m Jack.” He smiled cheekily at Geoff.

“Michael,” Geoff said loud enough for him to hear, “Pass the bag of guns back here, would you? I have a sudden urge to test them out right here.”

 

 *******

 

The island of Los Santos has three main population centres- the City of Los Santos, Sandy Shores, and Paleto Bay. Paleto Bay is cold and humid, Sandy Shores is hot and humid, and the City is just plain humid. Because of the island’s small size, the only way to get away from it all is to trade the humidity for mountain lions. There were plenty of barren mountain ranges along the eastern side of the island that, say, a group of idiots could use to practice using illegal firearms safely, as long as they didn’t mind beating back the occasional meth head. Or their pet mountain lion.

Which apparently they didn’t, because Ryan directed Jeremy outside the city limits and they drove east, eventually stopping in the Palomino Highlands. They found a dingy stretch of grass with a few trees scattered across it and set to work prepping the spot. Ryan was going to give them a bit of a rundown on how to use their newly acquired weaponry without killing themselves. Geoff did not envy his position.

“I already know all the gun safety rules,” Gavin said as he picked up rocks, “there’s four.”

Jeremy put the bag of ammo down and failed to hide how hard he was breathing. Next to him, Ryan gently placed the bag of guns on the grass without a single complaint. “Alright. What’s the first one?”

“Rule One: Keep your guns loaded at all times.”

Ryan frowned and shook his head. “No, no, you absolutely shouldn’t do that. Never ever. You just have to _assume_ they’re always loaded.”

“I might be misremembering.” Gavin stacked the rocks into a neat little pile they could use as a target. “But that’s a dumb rule anyway. When am I going to know when to reload then?”

“When bullets stop coming out!” Jeremy shouted at them.

“No!” Ryan shouted back. “Well, yes, but guys…”

“Second Rule,” Gavin continued, “is to always point your muzzle at the thing you want to shoot. Not really sure why that one’s on the list. You’d think people would figure that one out.”

“No,” Ryan said, “Gavin, please…”

“Third rule,” Gavin carried on blindly, “is don’t ever touch the trigger. Again, dumb rule. You need to touch the trigger to fire a gun, I’m pretty sure. But I’m not a gun guy. Is that right, Ryan?”

“Well, yeah, you need to put a finger on the trigger to fire it”-

-“Awesome, I’ve got rule three down pat.”

Ryan put his head in his hands.

“The only reason you’re allowed to handle a gun is because I can’t offer to kill someone for every guy we might want to hire as muscle, so we need all the free manpower we can get. Michael, can you make sure Gavin stays alive long enough to get to the practice heist?”

“Can do, Mr Haywood.” Michael picked out a submachine gun from the bag and tossed it underarm to Gavin, who floundered for a few seconds before holding the barrel tightly in his grasp. “What was the fourth rule, Gav?”

“Fourth rule is to be sure of the target and what lies beyond it,” Gavin said. A bit of tension relieved itself, a bit messily, from Ryan’s shoulders and he opened his mouth but Gavin continued: “so you can hit that instead for the most collateral damage.”

“Jesus Christ, Gavin.” Ryan said. “It’s almost like you opened the Wikipedia page for gun safety and tried to do the exact opposite.”

“You vastly overestimate the time and energy I’d be willing to put into something so trivial and dumb like gun safety.”

“Oh my God.” Ryan said. His hand twitched. “I’m going to have to kill you before you can kill me, aren’t I.”

“Does that make me the second most dangerous man in Los Santos?”

“Only to yourself. I am, of course, the first.”

“Please,” Geoff pleaded, “I want to die surrounded by hookers, not here in the ass-crack of nowhere. Ryan, can you give us some pointers please so we can go home?”

Ryan gave them each a weapon, taught them how to load it and turn the safety off, and pointed them in the direction of the shooting range. Geoff made sure to walk behind Gavin when they approached the firing line.

“Can I paint this orange and purple?” Jeremy asked, holding up an assault rifle.

“Absolutely not. These are _my_ guns, you’re just borrowing them.”

“But I’ve already named it the Assaulting Rim!”

“Change of plans,” Ryan said suddenly, “anyone can keep their weapons if they shoot Jeremy with them.”

 

 *******

 

“Okay guys,” Geoff said, “are we ready?”

Michael pulled a face at him. “Wouldn’t that have been a better question if we were back at the apartment?”

They sat in the back of a van Ryan stole and, defying all odds, it was shittier than the Mini Tim. The van now sat in a dinky car park hidden from the main road, and more importantly, any security cameras or cops looking around. Twilight had fallen over the city, and streetlights cast an orange glow over the road. Directly across from them, a 7-Eleven sent a vaguely green neon glow into the sky and safely away from the mess that was about to unfold.

Jack pulled a single tube of black face paint from his pocket that Ryan had let him borrow. “We’re ready, Geoff. Have you got the plan all figured out?”

Geoff had spent his last few dollars on an A4 sized map of Los Santos and some sticky tape, which was now stuck to the side of the van’s interior. He’d drawn circles around key locations but now in the dimness of the van he couldn’t quite make them out, even with his phone’s torch.

“Are we on the corner of Alfredo and Trevor Street?” Geoff asked. “I don’t see any street signs and Gavin made me turn my phone’s location off.”

Jeremy pointed out a dirty window. “That hotel says it’s the Alfredo Inn.”

“Well then it’s not a hotel then, is it.”

“Fucking hell Geoff, I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sorry Jeremy, I’m just trying not to have a heart attack over here.”

“Geoff,” Jack said, “The plan?”

“Okay. So.” Geoff took a deep breath. “We hit this 7-Eleven at exactly 8:45. Ryan and Michael go inside and harass the teller while Gavin heads in the back and wipes the security footage. Jack keeps an eye out for approaching cops. When Ryan, Michael, and Gavin come back Jeremy drives us off. I’ll navigate him to the next convenience store and we do it again. Rinse and repeat for two more places and then Jeremy drives us to the docks. We dump the van in the ocean and drive the Mini Tim back home. Does that sound good?”

There was a beat of silence.

“Uh, yeah,” Gavin said. “That sounds really good, actually.”

“One problem.” Ryan said from up front. “Geoff, you’re shit at navigating.”

“It’s just dark-“

“-And it’s only going to get darker. Michael, why don’t you navigate and Geoff can come in with me?”

Michael nodded. “I’m fine with that.”

“Geoff?” Ryan prompted.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“I was just going to say it’s 8:42 right now. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, thanks Ryan.” Bastard. “Face paint time guys.”

Jack distributed the contents of the tube to their hands and they hastily applied a thin layer to their faces. Ryan on the other hand, sat up the front with a beautiful black and white skull painted on, looking significantly smug.

“It’s 8:45.” Ryan said. “We need to move.” He got out and shut the van door behind him.

“Shit shit shit.” Geoff said, and stumbled out the back. Gavin followed closely behind him. “See you guys soon.”

Ryan crossed the road and waited for Geoff to catch up before striding inside and pointing his pistol at the lone employee.

“Money.” The Vagabond said in a low voice. “Bag. Now.”

“What?” The confused employee said. “Do you need a bag? Sorry, it’s my first day.”

“Put the money in the bag, idiot!” Geoff said, and waved his own pistol around. The employee, Geoff noticed now was a pimply teenager, suddenly understood the situation and turned white.

“We- we’re out of bags,” the employee managed to choke out, “We’re gonna get some more in Monday-“

“- _I don’t care about the bag,_ ” The Vagabond said. “I care about the money. Get it.”

“I can’t open the register w-without a purchase.”

The door _dinged_ as it slid open and Gavin walked in, one hand taking his phone out of his pocket and the other idly tapping the hand-grip of his pistol. He was also wearing sunglasses.

“Oi, mate,” Gavin shouted at the employee, “what’s the Wi-Fi password?”

“I can’t handle this,” the employee said and sat down on the floor behind the register.

The Vagabond turned to Gavin. “The hell are you playing at? Don’t you have some security cameras to wipe?”

“Christ, what do you think I’m doing?” Gavin yelled back. “Look at them! They’re wireless! Oh never mind, it’s an unsecured network.”

Meanwhile, Geoff squatted down next to the terrified employee. He plucked a candy bar from a shelf like a low hanging fruit and handed it to the employee.

“Here. Put this in.”

“C-cash or credit?”

Geoff slowly shook his head. “You are as thick as a bag of bricks, aren’t you?”

“I’m r-really sorry sir, I haven’t done this before.”

“Okay, I have a better idea.” Geoff pointed the gun at the employee again. “Give me your wallet.”

“Awww, man…”

The employee took his wallet out and slid it across the floor to Geoff. Geoff pulled the money out, took a brief look inside, and slid the wallet back across.

“Look, Shawcross, was it?”

“Yeah?”

“Listen to me. You aren’t going to go in for your _second_ day though if my buddy here shoots you in the _fucking_ head for not opening the _damn_ register. Okay?”

The terrified teen’s head vibrated up and down and shuffled over to the register. He managed to open it and handed Geoff a wad of twenty dollar bills.

“Thank you.” Geoff said, and pocketed the cash. “Now stay there and don’t move until we’re gone, okay?”

“Y-yep.”

“Not bad for _my_ first stick-up, if I do say so myself.”

Gavin came out of the back room with a handful of CDs. He followed the Vagabond and Geoff out the door, giving the teen a cheery wave as he went.

“Couldn’t get into the computer out back,” Gavin said breathily as they hauled it back to the van, “so I just ejected all the CD drives and emptied a couple of drawers. So uh, what do you want me to do with them?”

The Vagabond took them off him and broke the lot of them in half in one go.

“Christ alive.”

“Jesus, Ryan.”

“Don’t call me that when we’re heisting, Gavin.” The Vagabond snapped. “Ah, shit. Dammit.”

They climbed in the back of the van and Jeremy peeled away like a hound out of hell.

“How’d it go, boys?” Jeremy shouted back at them. “Also, where are going, Michael?”

Geoff pulled the wad of notes from his pocket and squinted at the denominations. Shit, maths.

“Uhh… we made ninety three dollars, if my calculations are correct.”

“That’s it?” Ryan said, at the same time as Michael and Gavin cheered.

“That’s enough for ninety three slices of pizza!” Jeremy explained. “I know a place that does a dollar a slice.”

“I can’t see anything on this map, Geoff.” Michael complained. “Are we heading south?”

Geoff looked out the rear window. For a fraction of a second, a letter of the Vinewood sign was visible way off in the distance.

“I think so. Are we _meant_ to be heading south?”

“Probably?”

Ryan pulled out a lighter and held it up to the map. “Better?”

“Much, thanks. Okay, we’re going the right way. Jeremy, you’ll want to take the next left and then the next two rights.”

Jeremy was silent for a moment, then “can’t I just take the next right then? It’s the same thing isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, I’m following Geoff’s shitty directions!”

“That’ll be it.” Jack pointed to a convenience store just off the next right turn. “Just turn here.”

Jeremy pulled up right outside the front doors. Geoff, the Vagabond, and Gavin climbed out and rushed into the convenience store. This one didn’t have a conveniently placed shady alley right next to it to hide the van, so the name was a bit of a misnomer. They would have to be quick.

“Money in the bag, idiots!” Geoff yelled. “Come on, come on, don’t have all day!”

A couple of muted gasps came from the back wall, and Geoff spotted a couple of exhausted-looking young people ducking behind the rear shelves. The cashier, a woman who appeared to be in her late forties, sighed heavily and opened the cash register.

“Alright, hold yer horses. You can have the money in the register but I don’t have the code to the safe on me”-

-“A safe?” Geoff said. “I’m an idiot. I never even thought about that for the other one.”

The Vagabond gave him a long look. “Great, now you’ve incriminalated us at _two_ crime scenes.”

“At least I can say _incriminated_ , dipshit. You didn’t think of it either, and you’re supposed to be an expert.”

“I started a bit higher up than a damn convenience store”-

-“Cameras are wiped!” Gavin said, and then the smile fell of his face and he pointed behind them. “Oh shit!”

The Vagabond kicked Geoff’s legs out from under him and he hit the tiles just in time to avoid a bullet to the face. The shot echoed around the room a few times and Geoff pressed his hands to his ears.

“Oh Jesus fuck,” Geoff moaned, eyes squeezed shut. “I think my ears are bleeding!”

The Vagabond’s returning shots were just as loud. Slowly the ringing in Geoff’s ears subsided and he could make out the sound of a woman sobbing. Someone pulled him to his feet and led him out the door.

“Don’t worry, he’ll live,” the Vagabond called out. “Doubt he’ll use that arm again though.”

“I don’t give a damn about the guy who tried to kill me!” Geoff shouted back. “We gotta get out of here!”

“Wasn’t talking to you. Oh and our, uh, hacker’s got the money. Come on, get in the van. I can hear police sirens.”

“What the fuck,” Jeremy said, driving away, “that turned into a bit of a shitshow.”

“You don’t say,” Ryan replied. “Aww, I got blood on my jacket.”

“Fuck your jacket,” Geoff said, “My ears!”

“Wuss. You’ll get used to it.”

“You’ve gotten used to hearing loss?”

“If I thought I’d actually be firing my gun I would have worn ear protection. But when I don’t, I don’t moan and roll around on the floor like a little bitch. Gavin’s not even complaining either, see?”

Gavin held up a fistful of notes, not listening. Whether he could or not would remain up in the air. “One hundred and ninety dollars!”

Ryan grimaced. “This is not the highest paying job I’ve ever had.”

“Not _yet_.”

Jeremy took a tight corner and Michael banged his head into Gavin’s.

“Fucking hell, we’re gonna get pulled over for dangerous driving.” Michael muttered. “I shoulda driven.”

Jeremy swerved again and sent Michael falling the other way into Geoff, and his head onto the wall.

“Almost there!” Jeremy said. “One last corner and… oh no.”

Geoff peeked through the front window and his eyes widened.

Two police cruisers were parked next to the gas pumps, their lights flashing obnoxiously. Another was parked on the road ahead, blocking it like Geoff would a creepy ex-girlfriend.

“Oh fuck,” Geoff said, “They’re ready for us. Did they know we’d hit here next?”

“Now, now,” Gavin said, “They might be here for another crime in progress.”

“That’s… an optimistic guess,” Ryan said. He picked up a semi-automatic rifle from a bag on the floor of the van. “I am less optimistic. Jeremy, turn the van around. I’ll hold them off if they follow us.”

“Uh oh.” Jack said, looking over his shoulder. “Police lights behind us.”

“Alright, fuck that idea then. Full throttle forwards. Guns out everyone.”

“Even”-

-“Not you, Jeremy. Just drive.”

“To where?!”

“The docks, duh!” Geoff said. “We’ve gotta lose them!”

“Geoff,” Jack argued, “You’re gonna lead them to Jeremy’s car!”

“Jeremy!” Ryan shouted. “Just drive!”

Jeremy floored it.

The sudden acceleration jolted Gavin and he squawked and accidentally pulled the trigger on his pistol. The shot broke a side window, and Geoff had time to wince at the bang before a _BOOM_ exploded out from the gas pumps.

The van rocked with the force of the blast. A fireball curled its way up towards the sky like a bubble rising through water. Geoff blinked the afterimage away as the first pieces of shrapnel rained down. The burned husk of a police cruiser rolled past them, stopping directly between the van and the horrified faces of the cops and a guy in handcuffs coming out of the convenience store.

“…Huh. You were right, Gavin.” Ryan said as Jeremy accelerated away. “They weren’t after us at all.”

Sirens started up from the third police cruiser.

“They are _now_.” Michael said. “Fuck you, Gavin. Also, that was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“…I don’t want to do this anymore.” Gavin said.

“Too bad,” Ryan said, and kicked one of the van’s back doors open. Wind whistled through the vehicle and Gavin and Geoff screamed. “Start shooting.”

“Why did you do that?!” Geoff shouted. “Now the police can shoot us!”

“Not if we shoot them first!”

With that, the Vagabond opened fire on the cop car following them. Geoff wrapped his foot around the seat’s supports, stood up, and aimed out the back. Jeremy hit a pothole at the same time Geoff fired, sending the bullet out the roof of the van and into an unlucky pigeon. Geoff decided he’d done enough damage and sat back down.

Another cop car joined the first.

“We’ve got two cruisers now!” Jack yelled.

“Yes!” Michael said. “We know! You can stop now!”

“I’m just trying to be useful like you’re _not_ doing with that machine gun!” Jack pointed at the gun bag.

“Oh yeah.”

A few bullets peppered the van’s interior, seasoning it evenly. Geoff threw an arm in front of himself like that was going to help. The van turned sharply and Gavin fell against the map on the wall, wrenching it free and it flew out into the open air.

The map hit the windshield of one of the cruisers, causing it to swerve and lose control. The car scraped against the side of the other and took a nasty nosedive into the side of a doughnut shop. The other car almost spun out, but gained traction and continued to follow them.

“Fuck me,” Geoff said, “That _was_ cool.”

Michael joined the Vagabond at the rear of the vehicle and opened fire. A bullet took out a tyre and another jerked the passenger’s head back. The driver lost control and hit a set of traffic lights.

“Fuck yes!” Michael shouted.

“That was me, idiot.” The Vagabond said.

“Like hell it was! I saw you go for the tyre, I hit the cop.”

“I got both. You’re lucky to hit the cruiser at all with that piece of garbage.”

Gavin flipped the smoking cruiser off as Jeremy turned sharply and took them out of sight. “Easy peasy. You wouldn’t think it would be that damn hard to follow a van and not crash into something”-

-“Shit!” Jeremy said, and the van became airborne.

In the moment of weightlessness, Geoff came to realise two things:

  1. Gavin’s big mouth was the cause of all his current problems.
  2. Nothing could bring him greater pleasure than killing Gavin for saying those last two sentences out loud.



The van crashed with a splash and Geoff narrowly avoided braining himself on the edge of a seat. The van landed sideways and dirty water quickly flooded the interior. No one seemed to be too injured, judging by the cursing, and Geoff pulled his soggy self out the back door before the water could rise too high. Maybe the water would drown Gavin, the prick.

Unfortunately after paddling a few feet away from the van, Geoff noticed the water was only waist high and he could stand up. The others slowly pulled themselves away from the van and they watched it drift downstream. Jeremy had accidentally steered them into the waterways.

“Look, guys,” Jeremy said, “It’s harder than it looks, driving when there’s cops shooting at you.”

Jack kicked the side of the van before it drifted past him into deeper waters. “I don’t think we’re going any further in that.”

There was a siren in the distance.

“We can’t stay here though.” Ryan said. Luckily he’d snagged the bag of guns before they followed the van into a watery grave, and he heaved it over one shoulder. He dipped his hands in the filthy water and rubbed it over his face to remove the face paint. “Come on. We have to go incognito now, get that face paint off.”

Reluctantly, the others put their hands back in the water and rubbed the paint off.

“We still look pretty conspicuous,” Gavin said, “I’m positively _dripping_.”

“I’m regular dripping, too bad. Now can someone give me a leg up over the ledge here?”

They managed to pull themselves up into the alley that Jeremy had steered them off. The intersection where the second cop car had crashed was only a few hundred feet away, so they briskly walked in the other direction, sticking close to the side of the waterway.

“Where are we going now?” Michael asked.

“Jeremy’s car,” Ryan said, “we can follow the waterway down to the ocean and that’ll lead us to the docks. It’ll only be a couple of miles.”

“A couple of miles?!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Gav,” Michael asked, “do you still have the money we stole? That’ll cover our bus fares.”

Gavin pulled a sodden lump of paper out of his pocket. Half a note peeled off the lump and fell to the ground with a wet splat, and Gavin made a choking noise in his throat.

“Uhhh… Do you think it’ll still get accepted?”

Ryan took the lump and threw it in a bin where it belonged. “We walk.”

Ryan led the charge, and Geoff squelched after him miserably. A wind had picked up, and the group shivered.

“So, uh,” Jeremy said after a few minutes, “great heist, huh? Everyone have fun?”

Geoff barely resisted the urge to hit him.

“You know, I did actually.” Jack said brightly. “At least until it all went horribly, horribly wrong.”

“Yeah!” Gavin said. “Two of the hits went off without a hitch. Two out of three ain’t bad!”

“But we didn’t end up with any money,” Geoff complained. “How the hell do the actual gangs around here do it?”

“We’ll just have to try again.” Ryan said. “Maybe we were too ambitious this time?”

“I don’t think three convenience stores were too ambitious.”

“So do you want to do the same thing again?”

Despite himself, Geoff smiled.

“Yeah, actually. What if we hit the same places too? The cops’ll _never_ expect that…”

 

 *******

 

About a mile down the walkway they stumbled across a clothes donation bin. Gavin was able to pull a few articles out for them with his slight frame, saving them from a cold walk to the docks. This was a point he was proud of until Jeremy and Michael reminded him that they were simply too swole to do that, and everyone else had joined in laughing at him.

The walk after that had been lighter, and it didn’t feel like much time had passed at all before they were climbing into the Mini Tim and Jeremy drove them home. By the time they’d all stumbled back into Gavin’s apartment the energy was high and they were loudly discussing options for the next heist.

“I wanna go in next time,” Jeremy said, “Michael can drive.”

“Hell no, me too!” Michael said. “Sitting in the van was boring.”

“That reminds me,” Jack interjected, “We need to have an escape route ready. More than one, if possible. That way we won’t drive into any more waterways.”

“On it.” Geoff replied. “Gavin, can you look up where there are speed cameras and red light cameras in the area?”

“Sure. Oh, and two local politicians already responded to my blackmailing.”

“Great. Can you ask them if they have any dirt on the police commissioners or something?”

“Can do.” Gavin saluted and retrieved his laptop, gently rearranging the weapons Ryan left on the table to dry. Ryan sat at the table with his gun cleaning supplies in hand.

“Now now, children. We’ve got time to figure everything out before tomorrow, but we need to get these weapons up to snuff first, and I’m sure as hell not going to do it for you.”

So they sat down and Ryan dutifully instructed them on proper firearm maintenance, disassembling and wiping down with a cool efficiency. Then to keep up the Suburban Dad Aesthetic, Ryan cooked them a “spag bol” recipe he’d picked up in Australia from the scant supplies in Gavin’s kitchen. After they’d finished dinner it was far too late for Michael and Jeremy to head back to their apartment, so Gavin pulled two camping mats out from under his bed and invited them to spend the night as well.

It made it easier for them to continue planning the next day. And almost surprisingly enough, at least to Geoff, the heist went off without a single problem and the six of them came back to the apartment almost five hundred dollars richer. The poor teenager had almost fainted the second time they came around (last on the list, they settled on doing the heist backwards) and quit on the spot. Jack gave him five dollars for a bus ride home.

 

 *******

 

And with that heist a success, there was no reason to think they couldn’t hit a string of jewellery stores either. A few more similar heists, deals, and assassinations led to whispers around Downtown Los Santos about a new crew on the block. A couple of bought politicians and lawmen let them practice on a real range with their ill-gotten gains and the heists grew more successful, more ludicrous, more explosive, and it was only about three months later that they left Gavin’s dingy apartment and moved into a better one. Things were going swimmingly, and Geoff mentally marked the days off until they were ready for the big heist.

 

 *******

 

Of course, things always go well until they don’t.


End file.
